


One is the loneliest number

by nishiki



Series: Thistle and Weeds [4]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Caring luther, Drug Addiction, Forced Prostitution, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, Luther being a somewhat decent brother, Luther caring for Klaus, Prostitution, Sibling Bonding, dealing with loneliness, protective Luther
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 00:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18324911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishiki/pseuds/nishiki
Summary: A few years before Number One, Luther Hargreeves, was sent to the moon by his father, Luther found his brother Klaus trying to steal his father's money.





	One is the loneliest number

**March 2012**

The house lay still in the dark of the night. Every creak and every shift of the wooden beams amplified by a thousand echoing through the endless maze of corridors. He missed hearing the vague sounds coming from his siblings’ rooms all around him. The tossing and turning in their sleep, the mumbling, the occasional fits of giggling laughter. He missed sneaking out of his room and going to the attic with Allison at night to watch the stars together and dream of the moon while sitting in an open window. Without her, it just wasn’t the same. He missed knowing that his siblings were sleeping soundly in their beds around him. In short, he missed his siblings. All of them. Even Diego.

Being all alone in this big house with just Dad, Mom, and Pogo was terribly lonely. A bitter part of his mind blamed himself for this loneliness he experienced every day now with his father too deeply enthralled in his research to spend actual time with his son. Not that he would have spent much time with any of his children ever anyway.

However, he couldn't blame his siblings for leaving, after all, hadn't it been him who had driven them all away? Even Allison with his fear to commit. They had all moved out shortly after Klaus had left as if the house had lost its warmth and comfort with him. That Diego would leave so shortly after Klaus’ departure had surprised no one. He and Klaus had always been close, after all, and Diego had wasted no opportunity to blame Luther for Klaus leaving them from then on forward. Maybe he was right. Maybe it had been Luther's fault and yet he was certain that Klaus would have run off eventually no matter what. He had always been so flighty, after all, sometimes vanishing for weeks on end without notice, leaving his siblings to stew in their fears of getting the message of his death.

He couldn't sleep. The house was too loud in its silence. No matter how much he turned and twisted he seemed unable to find a comfortable enough position to actually fall asleep. His mind was racing like a hamster on LSD spinning round and round in its little hamster wheel. He gave up around midnight and left his room soon after to roam around the house for a bit, hoping that it would give him the exhaustion he needed to finally fall asleep at last before another tiring day of training and the same boring routine would consume him again.

His father was out of the country for three days now and couldn't be expected to return for another two weeks on some kind of excursion once more, leaving his number one in charge of the house and the affairs of the academy. Luther wished his father would have taken him along. If he would be more like Five had been, his father would probably have taken him along for the ride. It was no secret though that Luther was a bit slow at times and didn't possess the same level of intelligence as Five or interest in his father’s studies.

When Luther reached the hallway his father's study was located on - a room he would never dare to enter without explicit permission - he grew aware of the noises coming from within that he couldn't quite put his finger on now. First, it almost sounded like rats scurrying away and scratching the furniture but as he came closer and had a small glimpse inside, he found a figure in the dim light of just his father’s Tiffany desk lamp crouching in front of the heavy iron safe and frantically trying to get the code right.

»Fuck!« The burglar hissed in an all too familiar voice. »Christ on a cracker how hard can it be? That greedy old bastard could at least have made it a bit easier. Oh, shut up, Ben. I have a right to that money like everyone else too!«

»Klaus?« As he switched on the ceiling lamp and filled the room with bright light, Luther was almost sure that Klaus would have a heart attack right then and there as he fell backward on his bum in shock, clutching his chest with his left hand, his eyes big as saucers.

He looked like shit. His face looked pale despite his naturally toned complexion, and a few bruises were quite artistically decorating his skin. He had a nasty bruise under his left eye but it was already faded to a sickly greenish yellow as if it was at least a few days old. A cut was running through his lips and his left eyebrow, and his jaw was bruised all over as if someone had forcefully grabbed him and perhaps pried it open. Luther didn't allow his mind to wander and think about the nature of those bruises too much.

He was wearing different clothes than Luther had ever seen on him - and to no surprise. The last time he had seen Klaus was six years ago and Klaus had not only grown even taller than he had been back then but was even thinner now. Sickly thin. His clothes were tattered and had holes in them that could not be excused by Klaus’ weird fashion sense. His leather pants were tight and sat low on his hips, the shirt he was wearing was too short and exposed his thin stomach - not to mention the plunging neckline. He wore a bunch of weird looking necklaces around his thin neck and a dirty looking jean jacket thrown over his shoulders to top off the look. His hair was a complete and utter mess and looked like birds had been nesting in it. Unlike Luther, his brother had grown a beard, actually. At least it was neatly trimmed and suited him quite well, actually, underlining his weirdly androgynous features. He almost looked like a complete stranger to Luther and yet, he clearly saw his _little brother_ underneath all of this.

It wasn't like he wouldn't love Klaus. He loved all his siblings. Even Diego. And it was true that Diego was not the only person worried sick every time Klaus had run off and vanished. It was also true that Luther had spent weeks after Klaus’ disappearance thinking about what his brother was up to at that exact moment. Thinking and worrying if he was still alive, if he had a needle in his arm, if he was eating right or if he might actually have found happiness out there. His siblings always claimed that Luther was naive and a bit thick and though that was indeed true he knew what methods Klaus was probably using to get his hands on his drug money out there. He had been brought up quite sheltered in this house but that didn't mean that Luther did not realize how ugly the real world out there was. His brother had probably been beaten up by some John or Tom who didn't want to pay.

The thought made him nauseous. When he looked at Klaus, he still saw his scrawny little brother, after all, and felt the urge to protect. It had always been his job to protect his siblings and he had failed Klaus in more than one regard. Especially after Ben, he should have been more caring, more compassionate.  

»Luther!« Klaus exclaimed cheerfully as he got back to his feet hastily. But his smile was fake and didn't reach his eyes. His vibrant green eyes were haunted and his fingers twitching. _Withdrawal_ , Luther thought. »Oh, it's so good to see you, big guy!« Before he knew it, Klaus had thrown his skinny arms around him and squeezed his body against Luther’s in a sorry excuse for a hug.

»What are you doing here?«

»Oh … You know … Just passing by, thinking I could get a taste of my inheritance before Dad finally kicks the bucket … The usual. Not that the old bastard would notice a few hundred dollars to be gone, right?« Klaus huffed and gently nudged his left biceps with a playful little wink. He was not very convincing when he wasn't high. »And, of course, I wanted to pay my big brother Luther a visit!«

»It's the middle of the night, Klaus.« Luther frowned as it clicked in his head. »Let me guess, you heard Dad was gone for a trip and decided to steal from him for drugs.« His brother had probably thought that Luther was accompanying his father and had deemed it save to come to the academy and steal everything he could get his hands on without having to face Luther.

»No … No, it's not like this, Luther, I swear.«

»Of course, it's not…« Luther sighed. »It never is.«

»But since you brought up the topic!« Klaus grinned widely, his teeth a bit more crooked than Luther remembered. He was amazed by how good Klaus still looked despite so much time on the streets and destroying his body with drugs. »You wouldn't loan me a few dollars for something to eat by any chance? I am a bit low on cash at the moment … You know the economy and all that jazz.«

»Do you have a place to sleep?«

»What? Me? Of course!« Klaus laughed and as Luther raised his brows he bit out another throaty laugh that was so unlike Klaus that it almost hurt Luther. »Oh, Luther, you know me! I am like a bird! I can't be tied down for too long! So … Could you spare a few bucks for your most favorite brother? Not that there are many left to choose from and you clearly like me better than Diego.«

»No, Klaus.« Luther frowned as he walked over to switch off the desk lamp and then shoved Klaus out of the room after turning off the rest of the lights. It was true, though, he liked Klaus more than Diego. He closed the door with a reassuring thud behind them before putting a hand on Klaus’ shoulder and maneuvering him away from the door. »If you want to stay the night and sleep in a real bed, eat something and stay sober for a while, you can stay. Otherwise, I have to ask you to leave _now_.«

Klaus shrugged his grip off violently and he hadn't expected anything less. »Still Daddy’s good little soldier, huh?« He hissed and his eyes bore deeply into Luther's soul as he did. He looked manic, he looked frightened. Not of the dark or the ghosts for the very first time. He was frightened to leave this house without cash. Probably he got in some trouble with someone - his dealer or something like that. Klaus was not easily scared by the real world, after all.

»I am just not willing to feed your habit.« Luther explained calmly.

»You know what? Fuck you! I shouldn't have come back.« As Klaus stomped down the stairs he could see him trembling all over and though there was enough affection left in Luther's heart to call out for him and make him stay in this house, he didn't. Klaus was right, he couldn't tie him down for too long. Klaus needed his freedom and Luther couldn't just take that away from him.

He watched him leave with a sinking feeling in his stomach before he threw on his coat and slipped into his boots and went out the door as well. Once Diego had yelled at him that it would be Luther's fault if their brother would die out there on the streets as it had been Luther's fault that Ben died as well. He couldn't risk that. He couldn't risk Klaus being beaten to death by someone because he owed money.

Before he knew it, he was following Klaus down two blocks without his brother even noticing him, too engaged in a conversation with empty air to notice. Only as Klaus dove into a shady looking alleyway between a hole in the wall bar and a drugstore, Luther sped up a bit to catch him before he would be gone. He could already see Klaus sleeping between garbage cans in his mind. His beloved brother reduced to something so small and weak. No. No, he couldn't allow this just like that.

As he reached the alley, he could hear Klaus groan out in pain, a scream tearing from his vocal cords and someone else yelling.

»You dumb fucking bitch how hard can it be, huh?« Another man yelled. »What do you want me to do now, Klaus? Throw you to the wolves? You are useless! You are forcing me to do these things!«

As Luther barged into the alley, his brother was lying on the ground already, his forearms wrapped around his head as if to protect it as another man way sending kick after kick straight into his flat stomach.

Luther didn't think as he rushed over and pulled the guy away from his brother, he didn't think as he slammed him against a wall and he didn't care for the sound of bones cracking under the impact. The man had lost consciousness right away and Luther didn't even care to check if he was still alive. It didn't matter. Klaus mattered. And Klaus flinched away from him as Luther crouched down beside him and pried his arms from his head.

His face was already covered in blood, his nose looked broken and his eyes had this look of utter defeat in them. This, right here at that very moment, was the real Klaus, the one always hidden underneath makeup and a flamboyant attitude.

»Come on.« Luther whispered as he helped Klaus to his feet. He found his knees buckling under Klaus’ low weight. He was barely able to stand, his eyes darting over to where the other man was lying on the ground. Luther didn't even look at that bastard. He didn't care what this man looked like and he didn't care about his injuries. This man had beaten and kicked another man who had been already on the ground and helpless. He was scum. »I’m gonna get you home.«

The early morning light was already filtering into the kitchen as Mom put two plates of pancakes in front of them on the table, before kissing Luther’s temple and then doing the same with Klaus who leaned into the touch a bit more than usual, starved for any kind of positive attention and love, apparently. For once, they were sitting side by side. Klaus was still holding a pack of frozen peas to his broken nose after Mom had fixed him up. He had bathed and looked a bit cleaner than hours before, even though he was still dressed in those ratty old clothes.

As Mom left the kitchen humming to herself, Luther was unable to dig into his food, Klaus, however, was ready to devour everything put in front of him.

»When did you last eat?« Luther asked quietly, almost too afraid of the actual answer to that question. His brother was all skin and bones and he hated it.

»I dunno.« Klaus shrugged and forced a careless little grin as if it truly wouldn't matter to him. »A week ago? Two weeks ago? It's hard to tell when you are high as a kite for the most time.«

»Cut it.« This time his words were much sharper as he directed a glare at his brother. »Cut the bullshit, Klaus. Please, for me.«

»For _you_?«

»I know I haven't been the greatest brother-« A snort. »But please give me a chance, okay? This guy … Who was that? Your dealer?«

»My boyfriend.« Luther looked at him puzzled and Klaus let out another snort. »My pimp. Both, I guess. Maybe he was my dealer too … Who knows?«

»What happened?« The way Klaus talked about this man made him sick and he didn't even know if he wanted to hear more. How could Klaus act so nonchalant about this man? His boyfriend? His dealer? His pimp? All of that? His brother should not have a _dealer_. His brother should not have a _pimp_. His brother should not have a boyfriend who was willing and ready to beat the crap out of him when he was already on the ground!

»Oh, you know … a story as old as time. Boy runs away from home. Boy sells his body away for drugs and money to buy food. Boy meets a good looking young John. Boy falls in love with John. John promises him the world. But then John has no money left for the boy’s habit and starts asking him to fuck other men for money again. _Just this once_. _Just one more time after that._ « He went quiet for a moment, still a forced little ugly grin on his lips, his eyes focused on his pancakes intently.

»Then the boy refuses to do as he says, refuses to let himself get used like this and gets beaten to an inch of his life and thrown to the wolves. And then there is a needle in his arm again and his John demands more and more and more because, after all, John just tries to get enough money for them to start a new sober life somewhere. And then John starts to owe huge sums of money to the local drug cartels because of the boy and sells him out more and more and more.« He huffed a humorless little laugh. »As I said, just the usual.«

Luther felt tears burning in his eyes as he looked at his brother. He hadn't seen him for six years and to hear him talk like this now broke his heart. All he wanted for his siblings was to be safe and happy out there and yet Klaus could have died numerous times already. He could have been killed and thrown into a ditch or buried in the woods and none of them would have ever learned what had happened to him. They had forgotten about him. They had forsaken him. He, _Luther_ , had forsaken his brother who needed his help the most.

»So« Klaus cleared his throat and finished his pancakes only to look longingly at Luther’s plate instead. Luther shoved his plate over and Klaus was quick to dig in. He was starving. Luther, on the other hand, didn't think he would be able to eat after this story. He shouldn't just have knocked out this man in the alleyway. He should have ripped him apart for what he had done to his brother. He should have ripped his head off. He should have cut his fucking dick off. »I saw Allison on the news the other day. Our sister hit it off well, huh? She’s getting married to some big name in Hollywood. I wonder if she’ll invite any of us. I should visit her sometime soon.«

»Klaus.« He didn't want to talk about Allison. She had looked happy on the news but Luther was afraid to think about how she had achieved this happiness or how long it would take until it would all come crumbling down around her and break her heart. »You can stay here. Away from those people. I can help you get clean and start over and you’ll be safe.«

»Safe?« Klaus laughed. This time his laugh sounded nervous and weak and trembling and he looked so fucking scared that all Luther wanted to do was wrap his arms around him and hold him close. Luther, however, couldn't even remember a time when he had hugged Klaus. He had hugged him once or twice, surely. He had, hadn't he? »Here? With good old Reggie around? No, no, no, no. I won't have him throw me into that fucking mausoleum one more time.«

»What mausoleum?«

»Oh, I never told you, didn't I?« He laughed and Luther could see the moisture in his green eyes. »Dad locked me up in a mausoleum for days every now and then - to help me get over my fears of the ghosts, I guess. Maybe that was what drove me a bit cuckoo.« He laughed but he was still fidgeting with the cutlery. »Everything got only worse after that.«  

»Please stay.« Luther asked again. _Please stay with me, please don't leave me alone, it's so lonely here without you guys_. But those things he would never dare to say. Not to Klaus or anyone else. He was number one, after all, the big strong leader of this group. »At least until your wounds are healed. Dad is gone for at least two more weeks. You can stay.«

Klaus looked at him for a long moment and then, finally, with a small nod he agreed. »I can't leave you rotting in here all by yourself, right?«

Klaus stayed three days and Luther wasn't even surprised to find him gone at the fourth day. He found a note next to a plate filled with freshly baked waffles for him early in the morning of the fourth day. Mom wasn’t up yet so the only person who could have baked those waffles was Klaus. At that moment, Luther already knew that Klaus was gone and what the note would say. Still, he walked over, sat down to eat and opened the note. In Klaus’ scribbly unfocused handwriting he had left Luther with only four words: ‘Thank you. I’m sorry.’

Klaus had stolen everything of worth that he could pawn off for money and was probably already out of the city to not be in danger of his pimp again. Maybe he was on his way to Allison to pay her a visit. He should call her and give her a heads up. Luther knew that he had stolen all these things without even the need to check if they were still there. And, for once, Luther wasn't even angry.

Six months later, his father sent him on a mission and he almost died. Three years later, his father sent him to the moon. It was lonely on the moon. Lonelier and more silent than in that big house. The quiet was deafening at times. But at least he could sit on his camping chair and watch the sunrise every now and then. And when he would sit there and look down on the planet he missed so much, he couldn't help but wonder what his siblings were up to.

 


End file.
